


Objectively

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: undermistletoe, Drunken Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-21
Updated: 2007-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney held a hand over his mouth. He wasn't contemplating kissing Sheppard. He really wasn't. What was he doing again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Objectively

**Author's Note:**

> Written for undermistletoe Mystery Schmoop Week 2007. Thank you very much to my betas neevebrody and lavvyan.
> 
> Past Rodney/Katie (as per canon) and Rodney/OMC. Failed contemplations of Rodney/Sam ;) Background Katie/OMC and pre-Ronon/Jennifer.

When he saw Katie entering with some tall, blond scientist, Rodney immediately filled up his glass with eggnog. He felt it was an objectively reasonable reaction even if _he_ had broken up with _her_ and not the other way round. Besides it had been sort of accidental, so he should have the right to mourn how things had gone down.

He couldn't for the life of him remember why he'd blurted out that particular part of his discussions with Jeannie. Of _course_ Katie had asked what he'd answered to Jeannie's question. Why would he have brought it up when he didn't want to talk about it?

Naturally he hadn't _really_ wanted to talk about it. But while his mind had still tried to come up with a way to say 'I have absolutely no idea', he'd suddenly heard his mouth form the words "I don't love you."

It was hard to tell who of the two had been more surprised by that revelation, and it _had_ been a revelation, because even though Rodney hadn't had any idea, once the words were out of his mouth, he had to acknowledge the truth of them. They'd stared at each other for a long while until Rodney had stood up and said, "I'm sorry," before fleeing.

Now, just two weeks later, he still wasn't quite sure what had happened or _why_ , while Katie was beginning to dance with Mr. "I'm sure to appreciate having a flower named after me".

And Rodney wasn't even jealous!

He tried to imagine their last talk and saying 'Yes, I want to marry you', but it felt wrong and fake, and he shuddered at the thought of it. Or maybe that was the eggnog.

Rodney turned away from Katie and what's-his-name and went looking for the genuine imported hard alcohol that he knew was making the rounds.

~~

Samantha Carter.

She had been his ideal woman for so long. She was the reason why things had never worked out with Katie. He'd just pretended, lying to Katie and himself, because Sam had been a galaxy away. And now that she was back, he couldn't deny his true feelings any longer.

It made perfect sense.

He nodded decisively, closing his eyes when that blurred his vision. He hiccupped.

Okay, he was probably a little drunk, but that didn't matter, because Rodney could still think when he was drunk. He just couldn't quite walk anymore. But that was okay. He was leaning against the table under which the not-so-secret stash of alcohol was located. Most people stayed away from it, only walking by oh so casually to refill their glass before sauntering away again into one of the little groups that had formed around the mess hall. Rodney didn't think there was any point in such pretense.

He filled his glass once more, trying to concentrate on not spilling anything. Ah, yes. He took a sip. Wonderful. Didn't even taste bitter anymore. He loved this stage of drinking.

He looked up again.

Sam.

He sighed. It was objectively reasonable to be completely crazy about her.

There she stood, talking to Sheppard. Tall—like Sheppard. Smart, even though obviously not as smart as Rodney—like Sheppard. Leadership and strategic skills that had made her a Colonel—like Sheppard. And incredibly hot—like Shepp—

_Whoa_

Rodney put his arms out, holding on to nothing, and tried to concentrate on making the world stop spinning, because as far as he knew he wasn't actually moving. And Sheppard was _not_ hot.

He tilted his head and focused on him for a moment. Okay, the slouch was kind of sexy, and that messy hair had a certain I-want-to-run-my-hands-through-it appeal. And his lips were probably really incredibly very kissable.

_hicks_

Rodney held a hand over his mouth. He wasn't contemplating kissing Sheppard. He really wasn't. What was he doing again?

Sam. Right! He was thinking about how hopelessly in love he was with her and how he'd repressed it until the truth had just bubbled out of him, like the contents of the bottle of champagne that someone somewhere had beheaded earlier that night.

He tried to imagine Sam naked, champagne running down her—

He covered his eyes with both hands, the cold glass pressing against his nose. No, he couldn't imagine this. Sam was his boss, and she was a great boss. He didn't think of her that way. No, wait. He _did_ think of her that way. Hadn't that been his revelation?

He peeked through his hands and tried to imagine kissing Sam, but all that popped up in his mind was a chaste kiss on the cheek.

No, no, no. She was the woman of his dreams. Hell, he'd formed a whole society after her image, okay, only accidentally and only the female half, but still.

He pulled his hands away and looked at her, standing relaxed with a glass in her hand smiling friendly towards Sheppard. She was what he wanted.

He tried to conjure up the image of a heated embrace between them, but all that came to mind was a hug—a quick and awkward one at that.

He grimaced.

This couldn't be happening. He'd lost his sexual mojo!

His eyes narrowed and turned to Katie. What if she still had it?

He closed his eyes briefly and tried to imagine kissing and nakedness and it kind of worked, but came and went as quickly as it had come. And he had a feeling the only reason he could picture it at all was because he was drawing on actual memories rather than fantasies.

Damn! Okay, his sex drive had to be somewhere. He'd always had a pretty vivid imagination. Katie and Sam seemed to be out for some reason now. So it had to be a question of finding the right object for his unbridled lust.

Teyla. She was hot. But she was also pregnant and a friend and could kill him with her pinky, and it felt wrong to think of her that way.

That sexy brunette that was making eyes at Sheppard or Ronon or possibly both without looking at him twice. Nah, if she couldn't appreciate his genius, she wasn't worth his attention, even in his fantasy.

He looked over the crowd, his gaze halting at every half-way attractive female and tried to imagine bending her backwards and kissing her, but it all felt completely technical and not at all like how an illicit fantasy _should_ feel. He didn't even make it to the illicit part.

There had to be some mistake. He turned his gaze back to where Sam had last stood. It had to be her. His brain was just malfunctioning.

His gaze slowed down, and when he looked at Sheppard, before stopping on Sam, Rodney suddenly had a crystal clear vision of John, flat on a table, and Rodney on top of him, his tongue down his throat.

Rodney stumbled backward into the table. His glass was rolling away, and he might have fallen down if there hadn't suddenly been a magical hand holding him by the back of his uniform.

He turned around, and the magical hand wasn't so much magical as it was Ronon's.

That mystery solved, Rodney turned back to look at Sheppard because obviously that had to have been some sort of mistake. But his knees buckled as he once again had a 3D surround sound fantasy of John beneath him, except this time it was his tongue down Rodney's throat.

Rodney blinked.

"You're drunk, McKay," Ronon said.

Rodney blinked and turned to him. "I am drunk," he conceded. "But that doesn't mean I'm suddenly stupid. There has to be an explanation."

"You're not used to drinking," Ronon stated flatly and somehow still managed to make it sound like an insult.

Rodney glared at him. "That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about—that." He pointed at Sheppard or at least his general direction, because his arm was wavering embarrassingly.

Ronon looked at where Rodney had pointed. So did Rodney, except that what _he_ saw was himself wrapped around Sheppard and undulating in ways that were very much illicit and completely unbridled.

Okay, so apparently Rodney was completely in lust with Sheppard and nobody else. And the most plausible explanation for that was—

"He's the hottest person in this room," Rodney stated, nodding to underline his conviction of the matter, in case Ronon was somehow doubting him, which was ridiculous because when had Rodney ever been wrong?

"Who?" Ronon asked.

"Sheppard," Rodney said in a Duh-voice. He pointed at him again, in case Ronon didn't get it.

Ronon looked at Sheppard and turned to Rodney. "No, he isn't."

"Of course he is."

"No, he isn't."

Okay, clearly, you couldn't argue with a man like Ronon. "So name _one_ person who's hotter."

"Teyla. Keller. Carter."

"Oh God," Rodney stopped him before continuing dismissively. "Don't be so—heterosexual. Not that there's anything wrong with it. I consider myself heterosexual actually. But that doesn't mean that I can't see that Sheppard is, objectively speaking, an attractive man."

Really, why did Ronon have to be so closed-minded about the whole thing? It was natural to experiment in college, and nobody could blame him for taking what he could get in Siberia. Sex with a guy was better than no sex at all, even if it had never been anything more than sexual gratification.

Suddenly, he thought of those long nights in the lab and Dimitri, who had been relatively not stupid and could do incredible things with his tongue. Rodney had actually liked him. But it had never been anything more. Not that this was the point here anyway. The point was that Ronon was being entirely unreasonable.

"Hey, enjoying the crazy Earth customs?" Keller said cheerily to Ronon. She looked up at him with big eyes, a wide smile and a nervous little spring in the way she stood.

Rodney rolled his eyes. Then it occurred to him that here was someone who could confirm his theory without heterosexual bias. Or, at least, with the bias in his favor.

"Jennifer," he began. After a moment, she turned her attention from Ronon to him. "If you take into consideration everyone in this room, the most attractive person is obviously Sheppard, right?"

She blinked. Then she turned to Ronon and back to Rodney. "Well, Colonel Sheppard is certainly quite handsome, although I personally wouldn't call him the _most_ attractive person here." She turned back to Ronon and blushed.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Rodney staggered away, unable to watch any longer as she was clearly making a fool of herself. And she wasn't even drunk. Not to mention that she conflated her own, obviously biased feelings with objective facts. There had to be someone in this room who could make sense.

He considered Radek for a second, but then he wasn't sure if the heterosexual bias wouldn't come through with him too.

Hmm.

Teyla! She was pregnant, which could make her biased towards the father of her child, but since he was absent and possibly dead, Rodney thought there was a good chance to finally get the right answer to his question.

He made his way over to her, narrowly avoiding a run-in with a very rude table.

She was talking to someone, so Rodney grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away in the direction of Sheppard and Sam, but not too close.

"Rodney, how much have you had to drink?" she asked, and for a second Rodney could only think that she already had that motherly mixture of understanding, worry, and disapproval down pat.

"Doesn't matter. Look over there." He pointed at Sheppard, who was at that same second looking over at them. Sheppard narrowed his eyes and frowned. Rodney put down his finger and turned to Teyla. "Now tell me, wouldn't you say that, quite clearly and objectively, Sheppard is the most attractive person in this room?"

She looked at him, and he was about to repeat his question when she looked over to Sheppard and then back. "I believe that John is a very handsome man, and his actions even more than his looks make him worthy of anyone's affection."

Rodney stared blankly at her. He wasn't quite sure if she was agreeing with him. "Are you saying that he's the hottest person in this room? Because that was my question."

"He is...certainly a desirable partner." Teyla looked as if she was trying to hide a smile, which was completely unnecessary as far as Rodney was concerned.

" _Thank_ you," he said with a triumphant smile. He'd known that Teyla would come through as an intelligent person, who despite her pregnancy wasn't nearly as hormone-driven as certain Chiefs of Medicine.

He looked at John again, who was still talking to Sam, but gazing over to Rodney constantly now, looking slightly worried. "So my libido is just doing what can be expected. Clearly everyone in this room who is not otherwise brainwashed," he said, nodding towards Keller and Ronon, "would want to do unspeakably dirty things with him."

"Rodney." She put her hands on his shoulders and began to steer him away. "Maybe we should—"

Rodney turned to her. "I mean, don't you want to lick him all over and tear every piece of clothing from his bo— Hey!"

Teyla was dragging him away suddenly. "I think you need a bit of fresh air," she said pointedly.

"But—" He turned back to John and Sam, but Sam was standing alone now, and then Rodney saw that John was approaching them.

"Hey, everything all right?" John asked, gaze flicking between Teyla and Rodney, before settling on Teyla.

"I believe Rodney has had a bit too much to drink."

"That's not true. I'm _completely_ drunk as evidenced by the fact that I cannot even walk straight. However, that doesn't mean that I need to be treated like a child. I can still _think_ very clearly."

"I'm sure, McKay," Sheppard said, putting a hand on Rodney's arm.

"I don't need fresh air," Rodney protested, folding his arms in front of him.

"That's right. What you need is a good night's sleep. Let's take you to bed."

Oh yes! Rodney sighed as he had another vision of John, this time on top of Rodney, mapping every inch of his body with his tongue.

John frowned at Rodney.

"Maybe _I_ should take Rodney—" Teyla didn't even finish her offer before both John and Rodney said:

"No."

"I can take it from here," John quickly added. He gave her a smile, and Rodney wondered why he looked around the room before pulling Rodney out of there, but didn't really worry because the most important thing was that John was taking him to bed.

His mojo was back, and he'd found the reason why he didn't love Katie.

He stumbled over that, or maybe his own feet.

Sheppard was dragging him along to the transporter, and Rodney kept looking over to him. He really was quite breathtaking, but if he was also the reason that Rodney didn't love Katie, then it was probably more.

Rodney leaned against the wall of the transporter even though it would only take a second to take them to the hall of his quarters. He watched John, who didn't look at him.

"Dimitri," Rodney said, because that would really explain it all.

Except apparently not to Sheppard, who turned to him with a frown on his face. "What?"

"Dimitri," Rodney repeated. "I worked with him in Siberia. He gave the most _amazing_ blow jobs."

John's eyes widened slightly, then he looked away to press the location near Rodney's quarters. There was the familiar flash of light, and then they were there, but neither of them moved.

"I don't think I was in love with him," Rodney continued, "but I _liked_ him and maybe..." He remembered how they'd laughed late at night in the labs after everyone else had gone. It had never crossed his mind that they could have become...well, whatever you called it when people weren't just having sex to pass the time and enjoy something other than your own hand.

But now, looking back at that, and being faced with overwhelming evidence in the form of one unreasonably attractive male Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, Rodney came to the conclusion that he must have had his own form of heterosexual bias, namely that he'd considered himself to be heterosexual when he obviously wasn't.

He looked at John, who was watching him carefully.

Rodney had always known that John was good-looking. That wasn't so much a knowledge thing as common perception. And they'd built something between them, friendship, respect, trust. He felt the emotions towards John that he'd experienced in the past at one time or another wash over him. Fondness, affection, worry. He remembered how jealous he'd been when John was with another woman and how it had felt when he'd thought he'd lost him.

Considering all the evidence, Rodney wondered how he could have ignored the only viable conclusion for such a long time.

"I love you."

John gasped, and Rodney realized that he had said it out loud. He found that he didn't mind, though, which really was a surprise. He had never said it to Katie, which was understandable in retrospect, but even in the relationships before that the words had never made it past his lips so easily.

It was quite fascinating, especially considering that he hadn't even kissed John yet.

He had another vision of them in Rodney's quarters. Hmm, yes. What were they waiting for? John had a slight frown on his face and generally looked as if he couldn't believe it either. Rodney grabbed him by his arm and left the transporter.

It wasn't very far to Rodney's quarters. He dragged John after him and pulled him inside, staring at John's mouth while the door whooshed closed. He licked his lips.

He leaned forward, aiming and then closing his eyes, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You should...really go to bed. You'll feel terrible in the morning."

Rodney opened his eyes, but John's face was turned away from him, looking towards the bed.

Rodney blinked. John couldn't mean what he was saying, could he? He couldn't possibly have talked about _sleeping_ when he'd suggested taking Rodney to bed.

"John," Rodney breathed and cupped John's face to turn it towards him.

It took a moment before John met his eyes. He gulped.

Rodney wondered why he looked so damn serious.

"You're drunk," John said quietly.

"I thought we'd established that. I also thought we'd established that that doesn't miraculously lower my IQ to two digits. In fact, I've made a very important discovery in this state, which just goes to prove that I'm still working on full capacity." Rodney's reasonable line of argument might have been slightly undermined by the hiccup that followed.

A smile tugged on the corner of John's mouth. He gently pulled Rodney's hand from his face and led him to bed.

Rodney willingly sat down because the world was beginning to get kind of blurry, but then he remembered that he hadn't even kissed John.

He really _should_ kiss John, now that he'd masterfully concluded that he loved him.

He stood up, putting one hand around the back of John's neck and the other on his shoulder, both for balance—the world was beginning to spin dangerously around him—and because that way he could pull him down into a kiss.

Finally.

That was the first, last and only thought Rodney had, before his head began to swim and everything faded to black.

~~

It was still early when he woke up.

He got up and went to the bathroom, following nature's quite insistent call. He was grateful that he seemed to handle alcohol quite well in the sense that he didn't get a hangover. He was just hungry.

When he looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw his hair sticking up in all directions, he smiled fondly, thinking of Sheppard.

Then the smile slowly faded away as the memories of last night came flooding back: Katie and her new boyfriend, watching Sam, watching John, his revelation, the transporter, and kissing John.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was vaguely aware that he shouldn't have ogled John in front of all of his soldiers, but what really mattered now was only one thing: Had his conclusion been correct?

Did he still, in the harsh not quite light of the not yet day, love John?

He pictured it again, kissing John, lying on top or beneath him, saying those words that he'd always had to force himself to say so far.

He opened his eyes.

"Yes," he said unnecessarily. Of course he'd been right. Being drunk didn't make him stupid.

Although, if there was one thing—apart from blurting out things that he definitely wasn't supposed to tell according to the backward American military—that he might have misjudged, it was John's reaction.

He couldn't remember much of it because for some reason it hadn't seemed important at the time, but now Rodney could see that John's offer to take him to bed had really only been with the intention of letting him sleep it off.

Well, he was sober now, and apart from the fact that John hadn't bodily pushed him away when Rodney had touched his face, there was nothing conclusive about his reaction. And it wasn't like he'd expected Sheppard to get violent or otherwise homophobic. He was far too laid back for that, and Rodney thought about how close they'd become...

They meant a lot to each other, and Rodney couldn't see that changing, whether John felt the same or not, and a part of him thought that there was a chance, a not insignificant one actually, that he did, considering that much of the evidence for Rodney wasn't different for John's side of things.

No, there was a reasonable probability that John loved him too, and while Rodney wasn't operating under the illusion that he could get John to say those words any time soon, that wasn't really his goal in the first place.

What he needed was simply one fact to turn probability into a certainty without reasonable doubt.

He made his way to John's quarters—not bothering to put on more than slippers since he was still fully dressed except for his jacket—and entered without alerting him.

For a moment, he just watched John sleep, approaching him quietly and feeling a sense of satisfaction that he'd finally sorted this out, because it was good to finally put a name to the warmth that filled him at the sight of that unruly hair and those pointy ears.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to push John off, but not careful enough not to wake him.

John turned and blinked. "Rodney?" Then his eyes opened and he straightened. "Has something happened?"

"No," Rodney said soothingly, putting a hand on John's shoulder and gently pushing him down until he relaxed into the pillow again.

Rodney moved his hand slightly to stroke John's warm neck.

John looked up at him.

"I just needed to ask you something," Rodney explained. "Last night, when I kissed you, did you kiss me back? Because I can remember most of the rest, but not that."

John's lips parted, but it took another long moment before he answered. "No."

Rodney kept running his fingers up and down John's neck until his hand caught up with what his brain suddenly realized.

The evidence wasn't in favor of his theory.

He kept his now still hand a moment longer where it was before pulling it away.

Well, probability was just that—not certainty—and inherently included the possibility of not coming to pass. He suddenly felt very tired and didn't want to analyze this any further, at least not right now.

He'd gotten what he came for.

He was about to get up when a hand on his arm stopped him.

"You were drunk," John said.

"I told you my incapacitation is mostly physical. My brain refuses not to be brilliant at all times, even when I'm drunk."

John gave him a quick smile. "Still. I didn't want to take advantage of you."

"How many times do I have to tell you—" Rodney stopped when his brilliant mind translated John's sentence into the reason why he hadn't kissed him, and the implication that John would name that particular reason as opposed to any number of rejections that would hinge on more than Rodney's drunken state.

John looked at him. His lips parted before he let his hand wander up over Rodney's shoulder to his neck.

"You're not drunk now, are you?" he asked, staring at Rodney's lips.

Rodney licked them in anticipation of the events that were obviously going to happen in the immediate future based on the non-ambiguous evidence.

"No, and even if I were, it wouldn't be a reason not to kiss me, because as I said—"

And then John pulled him down into a kiss, and Rodney's lips stilled, then parted.

When John's tongue grazed his, Rodney felt electricity in his whole body.

He loved it when objective facts inevitably led to the correct conclusion.


End file.
